Inspired II
by thebravestmanIeverknew
Summary: A collection of Drarry drabbles - not songfics, but inspired by what my iPod gave me on shuffle. Various lengths, mostly non-epilogue compliant, mostly war/post-war, mostly slash. Similar to the Dramione version of the same.
1. Drabble 1: Letters From Home

****Author's note: ****A collection of Drarry drabbles/scenes/stories/one-shots that I wrote at different times, inspired by different songs. Not really songfics, but there you have it. I don't own Harry Potter, or Draco Malfoy, or the idea of love, I'm afraid. :P Enjoy - read and review!

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><p><strong>Title: <strong>_Letters From Home_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_Come Home - OneRepublic  
><em>**Summary: **_What is Hogwarts like without Harry Potter, the Chosen One?_

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><p>Draco stared out into the green fire, an eerie aura surrounding him. The light cast funny shadows over his face, already sharper and more harrowed than usual. Luckily, Crabbe and Goyle were far too dense to work out what emotions were playing out on his face - or behind it, rather - and so they left him alone to brood.<p>

Brooding was what he did best nowadays, questioning himself and everyone around him - and never reaching any answers. It was rather frustrating.

He knew he should be having the time of his life at Hogwarts, finally - now it wasn't just one teacher who loved him; it was _all _of them. Except for the occasional McGonagall or Flitwick, of course.

Then again, Snape didn't seem overly thrilled with him, either. Which was strange. But not irritating enough to make him so ridiculously - depressed. That's what he was. Depressed. Dejected. _Alone_.

Alone? _How can I be alone? The whole bloody school is full of fellow Death Eaters and friends - and we're in power now - how am I alone? I'm actually less alone than ever._

Lonely.

_Lonely? That doesn't make sense either. Why on earth would I be wanting company? Everyone who I would ever want to be with me is here - right?_

Still, something was different about this year - besides the change in hands of power.

"Life's so much better now without those Weasel-Pottyhead-mudblood brats in every class, isn't it Draco?" Pansy simpered.

_Blast it. Potter. It's him. _After six years of torturing and irritating and foiling his nemesis at every chance he got - he _missed _him.

"Draco?" she asked, somewhat annoyed at his lack of response.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, Pansy."

Satisfied, she began to snog him - _kissing my bloody girlfriend should not feel this wrong, _he exclaimed wordlessly. And when she pulled herself on top of him, female - er - assets pushing down - it was too much.

"I've got - er - Dark Arts homework. I'll be off, Pansy."

"So soon?" she pouted, but it was lost as he left the common room far behind.

Drawing the curtains around his bed, he began to try and sort out his head - and his heart?

For starters, Pansy just felt - well, _wrong_. Hell, he was more attracted to Blaise than to her.

Then again, he countered, he'd always been more attracted to Blaise than any woman- oh. _Oh. _Things fell into place.

_Right - we've cleared that up, then? _He was slightly frustrated with himself for taking so long to sort things out. _Not things - yourself. Your own bloody head - if you don't know it, who will? Now - as for Potter-_

Vivid green eyes flashed into his head, and something burned in the pit of his stomach. He groaned. _Maybe sorting things out wasn't such a good idea?_

**oOo**

[A few weeks later]

Blaise watched from a staircase window as Draco slowly entered the empty courtyard. He'd been acting funny lately, avoiding the boys' showers after Quidditch, waiting until everyone was fully clothed before entering the dorm - keeping to himself - brooding, moping.

It was evident that he was unhappy. Perhaps he'd - written stuff out? A thought occurred to Blaise, and he raced back down to the dungeons, to the Slytherin common room, under the lake.

"Accio Draco's diary," he whispered, waving his wand. He was not disappointed. A little black book embossed with silver lettering came shooting out from underneath the bed. Opening it, he began to read...

_Dear You,_

_I know you'll never read this - but I can hope, can't I? Hope is all I have left anymore. Hope that I'll lose this war - that you'll survive - that things will go back to some semblance of normalcy. What is normal, though? For us, just the calm in between storms, isn't it? And we've always been on opposite sides of the storm - always will be. _

_No, no, no. Just - just come back. And we'll sort everything out. I'll make it work. I'll risk everything I have to make it work. For your sake.  
>I'm so utterly confused. You're not here to call me a right foul git - or to roll your eyes when I fake pain - or to eavesdrop on my conversations, just so I can stomp on your nose. Did I break it? I'm so sorry. <em>

_About the dementors, too. There's so much that I've just screwed up - but can't you see it's because I cared so bloody much? Can't you see how much I - no, you can't. I'll just have to tell you - show you. But you're not here for that, either._

_I don't know anymore. My world's gone so upside down without you here. It's terrible._

_Love always,_

_D_

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><p>He flipped the page. There were more. Intriguing.<p>

_Dear You,_

_It's me again, writing letters you'll never see - or care about. Do you care? I'm inclined to think you do, oh Chosen One with limitless compassion. I want to believe you have some last vestige of something kind for me - just not pity. Dear god, I hope not pity. _

_Anyway - I know you're trying to defeat the Dark Lord out there, in the open - but have you ever thought that maybe coming back here is the right thing to do? That maybe you'd find more ammunition for your fight here, more vulnerabilities? He's like me, you know. Hogwarts is our home. I know I put up this front of my parents and my father and my house - but really, I've begun to doubt all that. And anyway - at home, I'm an annoyance, a pest. Here, I was something more - Slytherin Prince, Malfoy heir. I built up a little kingdom here, and it had one main purpose - to bring you down. I'll give it all up - just come back to me. Come home, will you?_

_I could help you here, with what I know. _

_Love always,_

_D_

* * *

><p><em>Dear You,<em>

_Stop. Just stop. You don't belong - wherever it is you are. I'm sick of justifying things to myself - that you have to do this - that you're going to come back soon - that it'll all be over. It's not that simple, is it? I want so badly to believe that all the hatred - all the violence - will just kind of dissipate. Not likely, is it? I'm just - dreaming to myself. And to you. Do you do that? I'm sure you do. You're a dreamer, I know it. _

_Come home, please. I know there's a huge divide between us - an invisible wall of separation - but all I've ever known - is you. Granted, I've spent the last six years attempting to make your life hell, I know - but still. Teach me - teach me how to care for people, how to not be the young, heartless, Death Eater initiate that I've become. I want to be something - someone more than just what the Dark Lord tells me I should be. In his mind, I'm worthless. I need someone - and not just anyone, no - to prove that I'm worthwhile. Please - come, help me become what I'm truly meant to be - come home._

_Love always,_

_D_

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><p><em>Dear You,<em>

_It's not even about your safety anymore. It's about me (that's how my life runs, you know). I can't do this anymore. I can't pull it off. You're everything I'm not - brave, true, loving, caring, strong. I just can't do this without you by my side. You're everything I ought to have been - and so much more. _

_Just bloody come home. I can't take Hogwarts without you in it for much longer._

_Love always,_

_D_

* * *

><p><em>Dear You,<em>

_I've reached a decision. Actually - who am I kidding? - they reached it for me (what else is new?). I'm leaving this wretched place. Merlin knows I hope I'm leaving all the pain behind, too. I just wish - no, there's no point wishing. Even when everything ends, even if you live - it'll never be the same. I need to stop writing to you. I need to - move on. Hopefully I'll never see you again - that would be too much to ask of me, really. If all goes well, I'll die in this blasted war, just another sacrifice to the cause I gave so much to. _

_You have no idea how much I hate myself - and how much I love you._

_Love always, always, always,_

_D_


	2. Drabble 2: Healing is a Long Process

**Title: **_Healing is a Long Process_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_Water Runs Dry - Boyz II Men  
><em>**Summary: **_Harry comes to Draco, begging him to fix things._

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><p>"Malfoy!" Harry began, frustrated. "Where did you put the report?" He needed it for his meeting with Kingsl-the Minister, and Draco was <em>not<em> making this easy.

"On your bloody desk, Potter," he replied, scowling. "Where else would I put it? I ought to stick it up your arse; maybe you'd actually be able to _find_ things then."

Harry knocked over everything on the desk in front of him, shuffling papers and searching - searching - searching - where was that blasted file?

"Accio Draco's report," he said, struggling to keep his voice smooth. It sailed out from amid the papers, and with another wave of his wand, he reset everything back in order.

"See? I told you-"

"You _didn't _tell me you buried it under piles of past paperwork."

"I told you it was on your desk. It was." He paused. "I have... other work to attend to, Potter. Unlike you, I actually _do_ things in my job - simply being a celebrity would bore me to no end."

"Shove off, Malfoy. Get out of my office," Harry growled in response. As the other man left, he placed his head in his hands, visibly agitated.

The war had been over for years now - and everything seemed to have settled down. Here, in this new world where blood "traitors" weren't criminals - Blaise married Ginny (he'd attended their wedding two weeks ago). Ron had married Lavender, in the end. She was expecting - due in September. Hermione had gone off on a world tour, ostentatiously to visit international magical sites - but when she came back with a shiny platinum engagement ring, everyone knew it was Krum she had gone to see. That ceremony was - coming up, actually, in a month or so. Summer was, after all, wedding season.

He sighed. Engagements, marriages, children - it all seemed so wonderful, that the wizarding community had finally sorted out their priorities and were getting alone wonderfully. And yet he was unhappy.

The Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Hero - leader of the Golden Trio - this was what he had wanted, wasn't it? Everything was just how it should be - except Malfoy.

Day after day, the blonde made his life miserable - or tried to, at any rate. It was like _nothing _had changed from the time they were schoolyard nemeses.

Frustrated and exhausted with their immature antics, he swore to himself that day in his office that he would put an end to the nonsense. It _had _to stop.

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><p>The next morning, Harry strode into Draco's office. "Kingsley and I made some notes on your report - take a look and make the necessary modifications."<p>

"Yes, Professor." His voice was more obnoxious than ever.

"I want it back on my desk this afternoon. Clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

Harry sent him a pointed look as he headed to the door.

"Is there anything else, sir? I'll be sure to finish it, right on time. I'm a very good student, Professor."

The raven-haired wizard's brain very nearly exploded.

"Draco - _sodding _- Malfoy - what the bloody hell is your problem?" he seethed, retracing his steps back to Draco's desk.

"I'm sorry, sir, is there something I can help you with?" The insolence was undeniable.

"Just- just - arrghh," he growled indiscriminately, leaving the room.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Harry began to pack up his things as he realized that Draco wasn't planning on turning in the report any time soon.<p>

Walking out the door, he bumped into a lean, blonde figure.

"What?"

"The report, Potter. What else? You wanted it before you left, so here I am."

At least he'd stopped the insolent professor act. Harry beckoned him inside the office, taking the report, and letting him walk to the door - until he stopped him.

"Why do we do this?" His voice was dangerously quiet. Perhaps that was what caught Draco's attention as he turned around.

"What?"

"We haven't changed at all. We're not boys anymore - why do we still act like it?" It wasn't just Malfoy's fault that things were the way they were.

"Because we're bitter." The blonde paused, apparently shocked that he'd actually been sincere with his rival. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the office.

Harry sighed. Tomorrow was a new day. He could try again - right?

* * *

><p>He really didn't need to go see Draco - he did anyway. Inventing excuses for work wasn't new to Harry.<p>

Malfoy looked up as his office was invaded by his arch-nemesis. "What?" he demanded.

Harry seated himself, not waiting for an invitation.

"You know, when we fought in school - there was always a reason - usually you were being a right foul git about things."

Draco raised an eyebrow - said nothing.

"Hagrid, Dumbledore, the Weasleys, Hermione - you were always attacking one of my friends, and I always defended."

Still no response.

"Now - now you're civil to all of them - it's just me you can't stand. And there's really no reason for it. We fight over absolutely nothing."

He spoke for the first time. "Why are you here, Potter?"

"To bring you around. To bring me around."

"To what?"

"To the idea of actually being civil to each other."

"That's admirable, really." The implication was that despite its being admirable, it wasn't at all practical. Or probable.

"Please - hear me out. We can't wait each other out. It's not going to work - we both know that. Our whole lives will fly before us - and suddenly, we'll be old, and still just as immature as we were at age 12. I don't - that can't - it's just not right."

Draco sighed heavily. "Have you ever thought that maybe it wouldn't ever work, even if we tried?"

"I have, believe it or not - but I think it would. We're more similar than either of us would care to admit, you know. We've both been sort of forced into roles that cause us pain - and hurt the people we care about." He paused. "No one besides us has ever seen this much pain and suffering and death by the time they're barely 20."

"You don't know - what I went through, having to try and kill Dumbledore and failing. You'll never know."

"And you'll never know what it was like to have him possess your body completely. Or watch him kill you, with your permission. Honestly, I'm not here to swap war stories. Point is, out of everyone who had any part in that war - you and I ought to be the closest. We have the most similar experiences. What went wrong?"

His eyes had been cast downward, but now he raised them up to meet Harry's. "We cared too much." It was simple.

Harry understood. He blamed himself for everything, nearly - for Cedric's death (he had _told_ him to take the blasted cup) to Mad-Eye's (hadn't he let everyone take the risk and become him?) to all those who died in that last battle (if he'd just turned himself in...). Malfoy, too, it seemed, shouldered more guilt than he let on.

"Malfoy," he began unsteadily. It was hard to convince the other man of something he didn't believe about himself. "It wasn't your fault - stop beating yourself up about it and move on."

"You don't understa-"

"You want to bet on that?" The reply was slightly harsher than necessary. "Look, we defeated him on the battlefield-"

"_You _defeated him on the battlefield."

"With your help - and your wand. Don't deny it - you _did _help me, more than you know. Point is - we defeated him in person - we need to figure out how to get past the wreck that he left behind."

"Speak for yourself; I'm no wreck."

"You're more of a mess than you want to admit. You're still blaming yourself for all the deaths - you think it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't done what you had? Bloody hell, Malfoy - this isn't even about you. It's about Voldemort. It's his fault that so many died - suffered - not yours. He would want you to feel like it _was_ your fault - don't let him win."

"And the same doesn't go for you? Stop trying to save me, Potter. Your Saviour days are over - you've saved the entire wizarding world, isn't that enough? At least go fix your own issues before trying to fix mine." The mercury eyes met the vivid green ones once more.

Harry saw so much in his expression - in those eyes. He needed love, desperately so. For once in his life, Harry felt pity for the schoolyard bully - and yet it was pity tinged with empathy, because he knew that he wasn't in a position that much better. He, too, was grasping at straws, in a world that was moving on from the horrors of the past, leaving him stuck behind, with nothing - and no one - to hold on to.

Not sure what he was doing, but reeling from the realizations of the past several minutes, Harry reached out across the desk, cupping Draco's face in his hands. "Fine. I'll cut a deal with you - you fix me, and I'll fix you - Draco." In the instant before he lunged forward, he saw a flash of recognition in the other man's eyes - he had called him _Draco_. Before he could reply to that, however, Potter was practically splayed across his desk, kissing him softly - then with a little bit more passion as the Malfoy heir couldn't help but encourage him.

After a few moments, they separated.

"It's not going to be that simple, Pot-Harry," Draco said slowly. "Healing each other - this isn't like waving a wand and muttering an incantation."

"I know," Harry replied, massaging his stomach where the desk corner had jutted into him rather painfully. "I don't think it's going to be that bad, even if it does take a million years, give or take a few. Just - no more kissing across desks," he laughed ruefully.

"Fine," breathed Draco, coming around to the other side. An instant later, they were in each other's arms again.

Pulling away a second time, Draco laughed lightly. "I think we're done with the bickering, for now." His eyes still held the same expression as before - lonely, desperate - and Harry knew the two of them weren't really that different, in the end.

But things were going to change now - they were going to get over what had happened and move on, past the pain and suffering. And even if it took forever - they had each other, and that was all that mattered.


	3. Drabble 3: Saviour

**Title: **_Saviour_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_One - U2  
><em>**Summary: **_How are things the same - and yet different, now, ten years later?_

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><p><em>You offered me your hand ten years ago, offered friendship, offered entry into a whole world that I wasn't a part of - and I told you I could tell the right sort of wizards for myself, thanks. It was like from that instant onward - you hated me. I don't even know - you asked me to enter your world, but then you practically stomped on me every chance you got. Do you even know how many times I regretted saying no flat-out to you? Fourth year - when Ron stopped talking to me, and I thought he was a right foul git for it - I realized that maybe he wasn't all I had cracked him up to be. Sixth year - I could've figured out what you were up to, at the very least, if not convinced you to stop. The battle - maybe - maybe you would have been on our side. Maybe that's why I did end up saving you from the Fiendfyre after all. But of course, all you knew was that you hated me, and so I had no choice but to hate you as well - for the insults, the slurs, the bullying. I couldn't - care for you.<em>

* * *

><p>It was an office party, and Harry was the center of attention - not that this was anything new, of course. The Chosen One only needed to step outside his door before he was mobbed, these days. The newest piece of news was his break-up with Ginny Weasley - why? No one knew - no one but the two of them, Ron, and Hermione. But the Boy-Who-Lived was single! He was surrounded by women hanging on his every word, colleagues, coworkers - some of them wives, too.<p>

"Er - I'll just be - off to the loo a moment-" He escaped awkwardly - fame had not yet taught him real grace or social skills. Having no intention of going to the bathroom, he wondered for a moment where best to hide - then saw Draco Malfoy, sitting alone in a corner, firewhiskey in hand. Sitting beside him, he tried to start a conversation. "Hello there Mal-Draco. Draco. Hi. Right." He was ever-so-slightly flustered.

Draco took his time in responding. "Why are you here, Potter?"

"Sitting here? Well, to be frank - you looked somewhat lonely, and I wanted out of the mob."

He laughed bitterly. "No celebrity status, Potter? You could have practically any one of them, you know - they'd all fall head over heels to do just what you wanted."

"Yeah, well, what I want is for them to be a bloke - can't do that, can they?" He hadn't meant for _that_ to come out so soon, especially not with Malfoy.

The other man looked up for the first time, slightly surprised. "You - what?"

"Never mind; it doesn't matter."

"If you say so."

"Why don't you go - mingle?" He gestured broadly.

Another hollow laugh. "I'm only here because you recommended me for this bloody job, Potter. Otherwise, I'm some kind of social pariah."

"You don't have to be - all right, come on. I'll risk the mob - come with-"

"No - please, don't. I don't want you to - to play some kind of saviour again. You're no Jesus Christ, and I'm no poor, pitiable leper that you're saving. Do remember that."

"Draco, get your blasted ego out of the way, and life will be a lot easier to live."

"Oh, so it's _my_ ego that's the issue, is it? Really." He got up and walked away.

* * *

><p><em>With a father in Azkaban, and a mother nearly at her grave - it was no wonder that I was searching for work. Of course, you <span>had<span> to insert a good word for me and get me a job at the Ministry, didn't you, oh Chosen One, hopeless do-gooder? What if I didn't want your help? What if, for once, I wanted to do something on my own? I'm pretty sure I would have been able to sort out good and bad for myself without your condescension, thanks. And by doing what you did - you've made life completely miserable for me, you know that? I'm worse than dirt, here in this new wizarding world - of course, you conveniently ignore that fact. You brought me in out of charity - you let me enter - and now everyone thinks I should be forever grateful, hanging on your every word, my saviour. They stomp on me every chance they get, and the only way I can get by is on my hands and knees, crawling like an imbecile. This is what you have made me. I hope you take pride in this, just like you do in every other blasted feat you accomplish._

* * *

><p>"He ought to be grateful to you, you know," Ginny soothed as Harry trudged over to her, frustrated with Malfoy's attitude problems. She and Ron sat on either side of him. "It's really not your fault - don't worry about him, really. He's not worth it-"<p>

"Then I blame myself for being stupid!" he exclaimed. "You think it was easy to convince _Kingsley _that Draco Malfoy was worthy of a job - as an Auror, no less? Come on - I put myself out there for him, extended myself more than was necessary - and this is what he does in return? Tells me I shouldn't have helped him?"

"He's bang out of order, mate," comforted Ron. "Just let it go; I'll deal with him later."

"He's jealous," Ginny added. "I mean - just because he's a loser and no one's ever really cared for him - why should he make _your_ life miserable?"

"It's like - you risk everything - I mean, what if he turned out to be a real Death Eater after all? Kingsley would have my neck, not to mention everything we've done would be skewed over in the public eye - and he just says that _I'm_ too busy playing savior? Where would he be otherwise?" Harry sighed, exasperated.

* * *

><p><em>I put myself out there. In front of Crabbe and Goyle - the two I needed to believe in me the most. They <span>had<span> to believe I was perfect, popular, more than anyone else. Image was crucial. Loyalty was key. In front of the Weasel - please. I don't even need to elaborate. You shut me down like it was your one and only goal in life to humiliate me - I even offered you my hand to shake; you rejected it. Isn't that common politeness? You and your supposedly Gryffindor chivalrous ways. What other choice did I have but to hate you, once you'd embarrassed me so? Especially in front of the three worst people possible? At least if you'd done it in front of - say, Pansy - it wouldn't have mattered, really. She'd have fawned on me anyway. You can't say that I started it, when you so clearly showed that you disliked me. Madam Malkins, remember? I made conversation with you - I never make conversation with strangers; they're far too beneath me, more often than not. I know who I need to know, and I don't need to meet anyone else - but I introduced myself to you, sort of. Talked with you. Tried to find some common ground - you rejected my overtures even then, simply because I made a comment about Hagrid being an oaf. Honestly, he's a school dropout who hasn't really amounted to much - what did you expect? I'm sorry if your standards aren't as high as mine - and mine are obviously not as high as you seem to think, if I stooped to making conversation with you, an utter stranger. Do I regret the way things turned out? Of course I do - do you? I doubt it. You have everything - what more do you need?_

* * *

><p>Hermione came over, listening to the conversation. "Harry - can I talk to you a moment?"<p>

He obliged, taking her hand as she led out to the balcony. "What is it?"

"Look, Ginny's a lovely person, and I suppose Ron does have his uses, occasionally - but just think for a moment from Draco's perspective, will you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Remember how first year - on the train - he offered to be your friend?"

"Yeah - I told you about that."

"Right - and you refused that offer, didn't you? Why?"

"Because I could tell he was a right foul-"

"Could you really? Honestly, Harry - you knew next to nothing about blood wars or Death Eaters or any such thing - and you hadn't even met his family. He just offered friendship."

"Fine - I said no, because he'd insulted Ron, and I _liked_ Ron - and same with Hagrid, what he'd said at Madam Malkin's - and he just seemed so - arrogant about it. I didn't want his bloody help sorting out the _right kind of wizards_."

"Exactly - now think of it this way: you've gone and led the fight against the people he's grown up with - the people who've made him who he is - a right foul git, I agree - but they were close to him, after all. That's more than just a simple insult-"

"Yeah, well, their crime was actually legitimate!"

"I know, Harry! I'm not saying he's a bloody saint - just let me finish - _please_!"

"Right - sorry. Go on."

"So then you come in - the whole world loves you - Mr. Chosen One - all that - and you step in and speed up his job process. At least he _asked _if you'd wanted help - you didn't even bother asking. And - maybe he was trying to prove himself - that he wasn't a real Death Eater after all - and now all you've done is made him look like-"

"...a prat, really. Incompetent _and _a real Death Eater, to boot." He was quiet for a moment. Maybe she was right - maybe he ought to have given Malfoy his space, just like he made Malfoy do for him, ten years back. Then again - hadn't he regretted the fact that he and the Draco couldn't have been - something more? _Is that why I did it? _he asked himself. _To make up for rejecting him?_

When he looked up, Hermione was gone. In her place was a tall, lean, blonde with a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey. "She told me to come out and talk to you. That you actually might have something important to say for once." He pointed back at Hermione, heading back into the crowd of Ministry employees.

"I - yeah - er - I'm sorry, Draco."

"For what?"

"For not shaking your hand when you introduced yourself to me- no, wait - what?" Now he was thoroughly confused. That wasn't at all what he had intended to say, but now it struck him that taking it back would be rather - awkward. Moreover, he had no interest in taking it back, even if it _hadn't _been awkward - he meant it. It had been preying on his mind for quite a while - the way he thoroughly and completely rejected the blonde. Slightly rude, too, come to think of it. "Well - that's one thing, I suppose. What I _intended _to say was that I'm sorry for interfering."

"Potter - your life is one giant interference with everyone else's," Draco laughed - but it wasn't as bitter as usual.

Harry grinned ruefully. "I guess you could say that - seriously though - I should have trusted you more than I did, let you prove yourself on your own."

"Yeah, well, considering I was a bloody git - it's forgiven, I suppose." Who's to say he couldn't be nice when he wanted to? Of course, alcohol had a large influence on whether or not he wanted to...

"On second thought," Draco added, inspired (once more) by the liquid coursing through his veins - and also by the palpitations of his heart. "You're not forgiven."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really. You're only forgiven if you - kiss me."

"_What_?"

"Oh come on, Potter. You've just come out - I came out years ago - and it only seems appropriate - kiss and make up, you know?"

He didn't need telling twice. They were, after all, secluded on the balcony, out of sight - Hermione had conveniently closed the doors.

Their lips met, hungry and passionate - searching, seeking. For what? Forgiveness?

They pulled away, panting.

"You know," Harry said. "Maybe that's why - I tried to help -"

"What, you've cared about me all this time? And you're only just realizing it? Come _on_, Potter. I knew something was up day 1 - when you rejected my handshake point blank."

"Yeah, I suppose that was rather rude of me, wasn't it?"

"Especially because I _never _shake hands with people."

"You did with me," Harry laughed. "So you must've cared about me, too - all this time."

"At least I realized it a long time ago, idiot."

"Social skills were always your strong point. You know, insulting everyone you met on the street, cursing behind their back, falling in love with your arch-nemesis and pretending like you wanted to kill him - you really nailed it, didn't you?" His voice was playful, teasing.

Draco raised a hand to swat him, but Harry pulled him down for a kiss instead.

"Merlin," Malfoy gasped, surfacing for air. "If I'd realized heroes were this good at kissing, I'd have dragged you into a broom closet ages ago."

Harry laughed. "We ought to go back in, though. They'll be wondering where we are - I know Ron is waiting to have a go at you. And this time, I'm _not _stepping in to play saviour."

"Merlin knows you've done enough of that, Pott-Harry." Draco smiled.


	4. Drabble 4: Books and Black Coffee

**Title: **_Books and Black Coffee_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_Girl From Yesterday - the Eagles  
><em>**Summary: **_Drarry through Ginny's letters_

* * *

><p><em>Dear Harry,<em>

_You said it would be a routine mission - that you'd be back with a Death Eater in tow, set for Azkaban - within a month. It's been three. Harry - love - I miss you. You could at least write, you know - although I suppose this time must be more danger-fraught than usual. Still - three months with no word is hard, you know. I can't even bring myself to look through your things - do your laundry - use your special coffee mug - it hurts too much, missing you. Please - let me know when you're coming home._

_Love always,  
>Ginny<em>

**oOo**

Harry sighed, folding up the parchment. He still hadn't figured out a way to tell his girlfriend properly - ex-girlfriend, he wished. He'd never been much of a hand with clingy females - females in general, really. How was he supposed to explain that he just didn't love her? It was better if she just thought long-distance didn't work, right? He'd left that flat three months ago with no intentions of returning. Ever. Obviously she hadn't seen that - well, that none of his clothes remained. Or his "things" - she did say that she hadn't looked.

Beside him, Draco munched on a croissant, sipping his black coffee, intent on reading a book. The pair were seated comfortably in a French coffeeshop, dark-wizard-catching the last thing on their minds. Sort of. Harry, at least, had come here with the intention of sticking around for a good long while (until Ginny got remarried? He'd heard Blaise was making eyes at her...)

Draco, though? He wasn't wholly sure. They _had_ originally come here looking for Rodolfus Lestrange - but that search had lasted two weeks. Draco kept inventing some excuse about family matters - he _did_ have extended family here, Harry grudgingly acknowledged. Still, it seemed as though he spent more time wandering around Paris bookstores and coffeeshops than anywhere else.

The blond ex-nemesis was still a complete mystery to him. They weren't friends, really - at least, he didn't think they were. Draco had gotten quiet after the war, rarely speaking unless answering a question. Like now, as he sipped his coffee and ate his croissant. Reading some novel or other - he seemed right at home.

Harry sighed. He really would have to do something about Ginny.

**oOo**

_Dear Harry,_

_You've found a new job? Don't you think we ought to have - talked about this? I mean - what does this mean for our relationship? I can't up and leave England, you know. You could warned me, couldn't you? Harry, - whatever your motives are - I promise I'll understand - and love you - and it'll all be fine - just come back soon, please?_

_I know you will eventually - I know how much you love me, darling - but just... make it soon? I have so many dreams for us, for our future. We all miss you so - especially me._

_Love always,  
>Ginny<em>

**oOo**

Harry crumpled up the parchment and threw into a corner, growling with frustration. "I just - argh! Women!"

Draco looked up from his book - _always reading, the bastard _- and smiled a little at the raven-haired man's distress as he set down his almost-empty cup of black coffee. "Ginny? Still? Merlin, you're not _that_ attractive, for her to pine away like she does."

"Thanks, Draco." He knew that the other wizard would want to see the letter - why else would he have spoken? Malfoy chose his words carefully - there was _always _a hidden meaning to them, if you cared - or knew - enough to find it. Using his wand, he uncrumpled it, and sent into his lap.

He couldn't help but snicker as he read the short missive. "She's got it bad. What are you going to tell her?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I don't know - I can't just lie and tell her that I've got a new bo-er, girlfriend - and anyway, even if I _was_ with someone - it would be slightly bastard-ish of me to do so without warning, no? I mean, I probably should have warned her when I walked out all those weeks ago - months, it's been." He collapsed onto the bed. "Oh, this is all my bloody fault."

Draco chuckled, returning to his book and his black coffee.

_Bloody bastard doesn't say a word when he actually needs to._

**oOo**

_Dear Harry,_

_Ron's birthday is coming up - in March - and we're all hoping you'll be here for it. You will, won't you, love? Everyone's been asking about you - even Romilda Vane, about that hippogriff tattoo on your chest. :) _

_I mean, really, you silly goose. If I'm stooping to Romilda - you must know how desperately we all miss you. How desperately I miss you. Here, in our flat. I think I'm going to go through your things, just - for your scent, the warmth, the memories. It's been four months now, Harry. Do come back - for my sake - I know how much I mean to you._

_Love always,  
>Ginny<em>

**oOo**

"Romilda Vane asked if you've got a hippogriff across your chest?" Draco's face was - indescribable. Delight suffused him at this latest hilarity - he _did _enjoy Harry's discomfort, didn't he? _Schadenfreude. _

Although - he'd been becoming far more extroverted as of late. He actually initiated conversations now, didn't just reply with one word answers or nods. Harry still hadn't quite figured out why he was still here, without a job, living off of the Malfoy family inheritance.

"Yeah, in sixth year. Ginny told her it was a dragon," he smiled at the recollection - but the expression was short-lived, replaced by one of regret and uncertainty.

Draco paused. "Why did you leave?"

"I - I didn't love her-"

"Potter - if you're remembering useless details like who said what sixth year - there's more to it than you just don't care anymore. And you never were one to stop caring, anyway."

"Fine - it's just - she's like a sister, nothing more. Like Hermione."

Curious, he posed another question. "Have there ever been any girls that weren't just a sister?"

"Well - Cho, I suppose - but that was a disaster, doomed from the start - I don't suppose I ever really cared for her."

"Did you," he swallowed, "kiss her?"

"Yeah, fifth year. Why?"

"What - was it like?"

"Wet. She was crying."

"Your first kiss, and you already made the girl cry? Merlin, Potter."

"She was bawling about Cedric - nothing I could do, really." He frowned. "Why the interrogation?"

The blond shook his head. "Nothing - just something that struck me, a whim, I suppose."

"What wh-"

"I think my cousin wanted to talk to me about some family matter or the other," he said loudly, cutting across Harry. "I ought to be going."

Harry was left alone with his thoughts - and a whim that occurred to him as he watched the lean figure walk out the door.

**oOo**

_Dear Harry,_

_Ron's birthday has come and gone - it's nearly May, now. I don't know what to say - you took all your things, didn't you? Why, Harry? If you needed to leave England, you should have just told me - I would have come with you._

_I suppose you're just too noble to ask that of me, aren't you? At least tell me where you are now, and I'll come join you - Pig takes your letters to you without an address, I think. _

_Write me where you're staying, and we can start over, if that's what you want. Whatever you need, darling - I'll be there for you, every step of the way. That's a promise. I'll never leave you, Harry - I'm no Cho Chang or Romilda Vane - you know that. That's why you love me, isn't it? _

_Anyway - write me where you are and I'll just come live with you. Things will get better, I know. For both of us - moving on is hard, but not as much when you have someone at your side. Someone you care about - and who cares about you. You're that person for me, Harry - and I am for you. It's been that way since... since second year, really, when you saved my life. I knew you'd come round, eventually. We were made for each other._

_Love always,  
>Ginny<em>

**oOo**

Draco didn't even have to ask - Harry left the letter on the kitchen table as he paced up and down the dining room of their flat.

"You know," he began. "Last time I got a letter from her - you said you had some whim or something. What was it?"

"Why do you ask? It was nothing, really, just a thought in passing."

"I'm curious, because something's been on my mind as well - and I wanted to know if we were thinking the same thing."

Both were reluctant to be the first to say it out loud. Draco bit his lip, avoiding Harry's gaze - looking everywhere but at the tall man now standing in front of him as he sat at the table.

Eventually, Harry plucked up enough Gryffindor courage to venture out into the open - "I think - I think I'm bent. I think that's why I left - why I didn't love her - romantically - anymore."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief at not having to be the one to say it. "I figured as much, you know."

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks before I asked you all those questions-"

"That was nearly a month and a half ago. You've known something about me that _I_ haven't known - for two months?"

He shrugged.

"You're far too observant."

"And you don't notice anything, really."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Draco didn't reply.

**oOo**

_Dear Harry,_

_You're moving around a lot? Really? Funny, I could tell from the charm I put on Pig that you're staying in one place. I have your address - don't worry about it; I'm up for anything - even if it is a trash dumpster in the ghetto. You shouldn't worry about me so much, silly. I can handle more than you know. _

_Anyway, I've been preparing to take leave from work - and I'm coming to see you. We'll have two glorious weeks together, in Paris. I know how romantic you can be - especially there, I'm sure, of all places. Ten days, love! Ten days, and we shall be reunited! Maybe I'll even stick around for a while longer ;)_

_Love always,  
>Ginny<em>

**oOo**

Harry groaned.

Draco chuckled.

"Why is my misery always so amusing to you?" he growled, frustrated. Striding up to the blond haired man, he attempted to snatch the letter. Malfoy raised his hand so that it was out of reach, and Harry, struggling still, ended up knocking them both to the floor, landing on top of Draco.

Their faces were inches apart - for all of two seconds, before Harry suddenly stood up, brushing off his jeans. "Er- sorry about that."

Draco wordlessly raised himself from the floor, sitting on his bed instead. "Forget about it." There was something different about his voice, Harry decided - what was it? Some emotion tinged it, an emotion Harry had never heard coming from Draco Malfoy - and he couldn't figure out what it was.

He watched as the blond folded up the parchment neatly, creasing it with his perfectly manicured fingernails - placing it on the bedside table with his slender, silken, fingers. He watched as Draco brushed a lock of deliciously blond hair from his smooth forehead, as he stood up, smoothing down his dress shirt and khakis-

"Don't you overheat in that thing?"

"No - anti-perspiration and cooling charms," Draco grinned.

Harry raised an eyebrow. The shirt was rather - becoming, even if long-sleeves and full pants were somewhat out-of-season. It showcased his lean, hard muscles - the contours of his body - his perfectly-shaped, slender neck.

Draco pretended not to notice that Harry was ogling him as he walked out the door, a small smirk on his face.

"Where are you going?"

"Bookstore," he waved, disappearing into the hallway.

Harry shook himself, as though waking from a reverie. What had he been thinking about? Oh, right. Draco Malfoy's body, nothing _that _unusual- _what? _The fact that he wasn't overly bothered by his daydreaming about Malfoy - it shocked him. That, coupled with the fact that he was now sure of his orientation - sent strange feelings through his body.

Did he have a - crush - on Draco Malfoy? The idea was absurd; unthinkable. And yet he'd just thought it, hadn't he?

**oOo**

_Dear Harry,_

_Tomorrow! I'm leaving in exactly 24 hours, just so I'll be at your flat, ready for dinner, by 5, with all my things. This will be my last letter - not that I feel bad about it, or anything, because - oh, I'll be with you! I can just imagine your face when you see me - radiant, happy, joyful - four and a half months it's been, dearest. _

_I'll wait for a confirmation from you before I take off, but do send it quickly - not at your normal pace, please?_

_Love always,  
>Ginny<em>

**oOo**

_Bloody bird, bothering me while I read_, thought Draco as he tried to finish the book he'd bought last week. He hadn't much time for reading, lately - too busy talking to Potter, discussing what to do when Ginny arrived tomorrow, buying groceries and new furniture together. They'd done that for the first time yesterday - shopping together. It was an interesting experience - Potter's frugality combined with Draco's expensive taste. Funny enough, he thought he'd get along just fine with the store brand of hummus Potter had forced him to take, despite his usual choice of organic hummus from the health food store.

The bird continued to tap at the window, and so he had no choice but to open it. Who would be writing to hi- _oh_. Ginny was coming tomorrow. Potter wasn't home yet - but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right? And anyway, he _had _been bugging Draco for solutions, hadn't he? It all came to him in a flash, and he knew just what he had to do.

Taking a blank sheet of parchment, he wrote with his left-hand, trying to make his writing look as much like Potter's as possible.

_Dear Ginny,_

_Don't come home first. I'd like to treat you to dinner before I bring you to my flat - since you're coming at mealtime, anyway. We can send your things to the flat as soon as you get here - or, if you'd like, use an Undetectable Extension Charm on your purse - I'm sure Hermione would know about those if you asked her. _

_There's a wonderful restaurant on the first floor of the Eiffel Tower - meet me there, and we'll share our evening together._

_Looking forward to seeing you-_

_-Harry_

There were a few inkblots - one by "my flat" - one by Hermione's name (there was a little scribble over a "G) - one by Harry's signature. He hoped she wouldn't notice them as he quickly sent Pigwidgeon off.

Realizing that if Potter saw the original letter from the Weasel, he might reply to it as well, Draco set himself another task. He had to do the job right, after all.

Taking his wand, he magically erased the last sentence of Ginny's letter, the line about responding for the sake of confirmation - and placed it on the desk where it would catch Potter's eye easily.

When Harry came home, it was to find Draco sipping black coffee, drumming those slender fingers of his on the desk. Next to - those fingers! - lay a piece of parchment.

"What does she say?"

"Hmm?"

"Ginny - she wrote," he nodded at the parchment.

"What makes you think I would read your letters, Potter? It _is_ still in the envelope."

"Oh - I don't know - never mind." He looked ever so slightly crestfallen. Had he made a miscalculation? Picking up the letter, he scanned it quickly. "I need your help - really."

"I thought you didn't need it - you know, after you've spent the last ten days pacing and worrying and begging me to assist you. I would never have thought that you'd ask, you know."

"Quit the sarcasm, bastard."

Draco's eyebrow went up. "I'm not likely to help you if you call me bastard."

"Fine, sorry. Look - I hate to be awkward and all - but she's coming to the flat - how is she going to react to you being here? Especially when I tell her I'm gay - which I still haven't figured out how to do yet."

He said nothing.

"She's going to suspect - think - I don't know. What's going to be my explanation? She's not going to believe that we're not - together," he choked the words out with great difficulty.

Draco still kept his mouth shut tight, reading his book.

"You're a lot of help, gee, thanks."

"Quit the sarcasm, bastard."

If unhelpful, it did elicit a laugh from his roommate. "Wonderful. Now that you've decided to open your mouth - give me an idea, will you?"

"I'll leave," he said simply.

"You'll - what?"

"I'll - go back. To England. Or something. Take all my things. Move."

"That's not drastic."

"Quit the sar-"

"Okay, okay," he grinned. "I get it. Seriously, though - why would you just up and leave?"

The unspoken question lay in the air like an ugly monster that no one wanted to battle just yet: why he was even there in the first place?

"Because that's what you need." The message was simple, the tone commanding - but Harry swore he heard a tinge of that foreign emotion again.

Was it really what he needed? Was Ginny's visit so important that Draco had to leave, permanently? When had he even started thinking that Draco's sticking around even mattered? Why wasn't he worried about why Draco was there in the first place? Why was he so concerned with making sure the Malfoy heir didn't leave?

"Is it really what I need?" he asked quietly. "You - leaving?"

"Yes, well," Draco cleared his throat, hoping beyond hope that he'd done his calculations right, that his timing wasn't off. "If she's going to think you've been cheating on her with me because I'm living with you - she shouldn't believe what isn't true, right?"

"Maybe we should make it true, then," Harry growled, lunging forward to grab Draco by the shoulders and stand him up straight. In a moment, their lips met, their bodies flush against each other.

They were holding on to each other like last, fallen hopes - grasping at a second chance that may not even be there. This was _it_; this was everything Harry had ever wanted - needed - craved, desperately sought. He had been searching for this for years now - ever since he realized that being with Ginny felt wrong.

They pulled away, surfacing for air, gasping - panting.

"That," declared Harry, "is called good timing."

Draco smiled. "I'm still going to go," he said softly. "Not permanently, just leave the flat for a bit, and then come back."

Harry nodded. "That's probably the best idea," he agreed. "Best not to spring it all on her at once?"

"Mmm." He was staring at Harry's uncommonly attractive lips.

They laughed, drawing close for another kiss.

**oOo**

_Dear Hermione,_

_I must say - meeting Draco instead of Harry at the Eiffel Tower was a bit of a shock. He explained that he'd convinced Harry to make a homemade meal instead, and that he'd been sent him to bring me home. We talked - a lot - on the way back, taking the muggle bus. Mostly about Harry. He said a lot of things, you know- that I would never have noticed about Harry. His taste in books, and music, and how it reflect who he really is. The way he shops (I'm afraid his frugality is my fault) - his haphazard nature, disorganization - the way he'll drop everything at a moment's notice if those he cares about are in danger. Draco made me realize - that maybe Harry and I weren't as close as I'd thought we were. I was confused, though - how did Draco even get there? Get to know him so well, better than me?_

_He neglected to mention that they were living together - though I kind of began to suspect during the course of our conversation en route to the flat. _

_And then - Harry! In all his messy-haired, green-eyed glory. I don't think I have ever loved him more than I did then, standing in his doorway. I think he and Draco had some conversation at this point, in the kitchen, but I was too busy making sure everything had come in properly and all. _

_Dinner was delicious - I suspect Draco had more of a hand in it that he'd like to admit. I can't see Harry being a good cook - then again, there was a lot I had never really known, wasn't there?_

_And then - oh, wait for it, Hermione - he broke his news to me. And everything made sense, you know? He's not straight. He left because - he needed to figure things out, he said. I don't know if he has yet - but good god, Hermione - Malfoy looks like he's practically ready to pop the question. And Harry is completely oblivious. Someone ought to wave a red flag in front of his face and get his attention, really. _

_I've been spending most of my time outside the flat - sometimes alone, sometimes with Harry, or Draco, or both. I feel like I'm intruding on them; it's so ridiculously awkward when I catch Draco staring across the room at Harry - or intercept the look he gives him when pouring him water at the dining table - they live in this perfect world, and I have no place in it. I want no place in it._

_Malfoy really ought to hate me. I think I should leave earlier than planned - Paris is a beautiful, beautiful city, though. Do come visit at some point or another, though I don't suggest staying with these two soon-to-be lovebirds. _

_Harry really is being thick about the whole thing. Perhaps you ought to talk to him about it._

_Love,  
>Ginny<em>

**oOo**

_Dear Hermione,_

_It's almost my last night here - and guess what? I just had to tell you - I know you'll understand the significance - I caught them holding hands as they were walking behind me! They thought I wouldn't notice or something? I don't know._

_I still think Harry's being somewhat thick about it, though. Or maybe I'm just not willing to forgive him for running away from me like he did. Merlin knows what goes on in that man's head - actually, scratch that. I think Draco Malfoy knows._

_I'll be home soon enough._

_Love,  
>Ginny<em>

**oOo**

Pigwidgeon tapped at the window.

"It's that blasted owl," Draco grumbled. "I'll get it as soon as I finish pouring the milk into your coffee."

"Sure," Harry nodded absentmindedly. He was slightly preoccupied with watching the way Draco gripped the milk jug - those fingers!

Taking the envelope from the bird, he scanned the parchment inside. "Here," he said, snorting. "Should find it amusing."

It wasn't a letter - it was a newspaper clipping - under the Daily Prophet's section of Community Announcements.

Harry scanned the paper. So Ginny was to marry Blaise Zabini after all. Merlin knew it had taken her long enough - three years? Maybe he could convince Draco to go to the wedding with him.

His partner sat down beside him, their fingers brushing slightly as he set the coffee cup down in front of Harry.

On an impulse, he seized Draco's hand, clutching it firmly in his own.

Draco merely sipped his coffee - black, always black - with a small smile on his lips, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Oh, Harry."


	5. Drabble 5: Fools, Lies, & Naivete

**Title: **_Fools, Lies, & Naivete_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_All the Right Moves - OneRepublic/My Life Would Suck Without You - Kelly Clarkson  
><em>**Summary: **_Potter has everything - everything but Draco._

* * *

><p>Myrtle swept down from her hiding place, trying to rest her hand on Draco's shoulder as he wept. It was no use; the pearly whiteness sank right through, chilling him to the bone - like he wasn't shivering already.<p>

"Let me help you," she crooned. "What's wrong?"

"No - just go away. You wouldn't understand. It's Potter."

"But of course I know Harry," she giggled shyly. "He used to visit me _all the time_."

Draco attempted to punch the sink in frustration. It was just like that stupid Potter to be everywhere before him - do everything before him - get to everyone first.

"Don't!" she shrieked. "You'll hurt yourself!"

"Doesn't bloody matter anymore, does it? It's all Potter's fault. All Potter's," he muttered, pulling away and loosening his tie. It was choking him - choking out his emotions - revealing him bit by bit - placing him at the mercy of this horrible ghost. She _was _horrible, really.

"There, there," she sighed softly, finally managing to settle her head down on his shoulder - an instant later, he shrugged her off. "What's wrong, Draco?"

"What's wrong? You ask _me_ what's wrong? Honestly, how thick are you?" Did he need to elaborate? Did he really need to explain why it was _all Potter's bloody fault? _It wasn't like he'd completely humiliated Draco - in front of Weasley, Crabbe, and Goyle, no less - their first year, by refusing his handshake, and his friendship. As if that wasn't enough, he'd quickly become Quidditch extraordinaire, single-handedly beating Malfoy and winning back Longbottom's Remembrall - and then going on to become _the youngest bloody seeker in a century. _With the best broom of the time, of course. Bought for him by the school. Who was he? An orphan, with no influence on the system whatsoever - and yet professors shelled out money to buy him cream of the crop brooms? Not to mention revealing Quirrel for a fraud - and defeating that mountain troll, too - and the Sorcerer's Stone incident - and that was all only first year! There was the Polyjuice second year (yes, he'd found out about that deception), and the Dueling Club - for once, he'd had the attention of everyone, nearly beating Potter - and then it was diverted because Potter had yet another talent. Parseltongue. The boy could talk to bloody serpents. And then he saved that Weaselette and the whole school worshiped him. And he'd gotten rid of Lockhart, too, while he was at it. Then - third year - the one time when Draco finally managed to use his father to his own advantage - oh, no. The wretched beast got away free, probably letting Potter ride it, too, no doubt. He had a way with animals, just like he did with people. Where Potter could win people over with just his own words - Draco had to imperius, coerce, threaten, blackmail. Where Potter could single-handedly defeat people and overcome his enemies - Draco had to struggle, desperately trying to sneak death to Dumbledore, somehow or other. What he wouldn't give to see Potter at his power - at his knees - begging Draco for mercy.

Not that that was likely to happen, he reasoned. After all - Potter knew all the right people, did all the right things - who was he? A nobody, really. Malfoy heir - a nobody. Bloody disgusting, the thought. Made him want to vomit.

That night, he swore that whatever happened - Dumbledore and Voldemort, pureblood and muggles, Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix - if they were both alive at the end of all this, he would make Potter pay. Bring the Chosen One down a notch or two - make him beg Malfoy for mercy. And he wasn't going back on his word - not this time.

* * *

><p>Harry ducked under the mistletoe hanging in the doorway, praying that no other witch would try to corner him under it. Honestly, all this war hero business - it was so irritating. Too many women.<p>

Draco, standing in a shadowed corner, saw the discomfort written all over his face.

"Oi, Potter - want a drink?" he offered, stepping into the light.

"Malfoy - oh - er, thanks," he gasped, accepting a bottle of firewhiskey.

"Looks like you're being mobbed again," Draco laughed lightly.

"I know! It's terrible, really. So many _women._" He wasn't sure why the blond was being so jovial - but he wasn't complaining. "I think I'm going to head home early. Work parties are never fun anyway. Care to join me?"

"What - as in - come home with you? That's a bit forward, isn't it?" He smirked.

_Good to know the old Malfoy hasn't _completely _disappeared_, Harry decided. "No - well - we could go to the Hog's Head. Less people, y'know?"

Draco shrugged. "I was kind of hoping someone would decide to go somewhere else soon. A drink or two never hurt anyone, right?"

Harry missed the sly smile that flashed across his face.

* * *

><p>At the pub, it was easy to slip the bartender extra galleons to ensure that Potter's cup was filled all the time.<p>

"Wow," he commented, speech slurred with alcohol. "These are really big glasses, aren't they?"

"Mmm," Draco nodded, pretending to sip from his own glass of firewhiskey. It remained untouched - alcohol was _not _going to interfere with the inner workings of his brain, not tonight.

It wasn't long before Potter was dead drunk, too tired to return to his London home.

_Of course, _Draco thought. _It's not as if I actually knew where he lived or anything. I couldn't take him back to his own flat - so I had to take him to mine. _The truth was that he knew perfectly well that Grimmauld Place belonged to the raven-haired man nearly passed out beside him. _But Potter doesn't know that I know that - and he's never been hard to fool. _He smiled, remembering a certain wizard's duel they had set first year. Potter had definitely not lost his naivete.

He would, however, lose it tonight.

* * *

><p>Heaving Potter onto the couch, Draco stepped back to admire his handiwork, slipping Potter's wand out from his pocket for good measure. Drunk - passed out, actually - wandless - on his enemy's couch. How fitting.<p>

The question was - what to do with him? He had never really planned this out, had he? Or if he had, it had focused more on getting Potter to this point - not what came next.

There was obviously the question of cursing him - but that seemed rather crude, not like personal revenge. _Hmm... _

And then he had it. Slightly disturbing, perhaps, but why not?

"_Wingardium Leviosa," _he murmured, levitating Potter into his bedroom.

Watching him there - sleeping peacefully - Draco's conscience twinged - and then he remembered all the wrongs done to him by Potter over the years, and his resolve was strong once more.

Silently stripping, he did the same to Potter, pausing a moment to admire his unblemished skin - perhaps somewhat tanner than his own, but no less smooth, really. Except for, of course, the lightning bolt on his forehead.

He went over to his dresser, drawing out his bottle of lube. What was it Potter had said? Oh - too many _women, _with emphasis on the "women." He smirked. Apparently Draco wasn't the only bent one in the room.

_This should be interesting,_ he grinned evilly.

* * *

><p>Harry awoke in the morning, naked, covered in sheets that were not his own - in a bed that wasn't his - and this was <em>not <em>his room, or his house.

And that was not - _bloody hell. _It _was. _Draco Malfoy, peacefully sleeping, arms draped across his chest.

He saw the open bottle of lube on the dresser and groaned inwardly. He didn't even remember properly - only Draco on top, vaguely, waking him up from his sleep. Blackout, must've been.

Moaning slightly, Draco shifted closer, snuggling up against Harry, arms drawing even tighter around him.

"Er - Malfoy," he whispered, not sure if he wanted to wake the other man or not.

"Mmm - tastes good," Draco murmured, pressing his lips to Harry's arm in his sleep.

"Malfoy," he said, somewhat louder. Those lips felt too - right - on his skin. This needed to stop.

Draco awoke with a start, instantly pulling away in shock - disgust?

Harry noted that something wasn't quite right about this - what was it?

"Potter - what - oh. _Oh." _And then he remembered exactly what had happened last night, beginning with witches and mistletoe, ending with a sated Draco falling asleep on the bed happily beside the green-eyed wizard.

"Yeah. Exactly." Harry paused. "D'you - remember it? I kind of vaguely recall waking up from being unconscious and finding you on top of me - I guess I was dead drunk," he laughed.

"What? Er - yeah, I think we were both pretty drunk." Lies. "You think I would've let you in here if you hadn't passed out? Come on, Potter. Drastic times call for drastic measures - that's all."

"Sure - and then we got carried away," Harry grinned ruefully, running a hand through his already-messy bedhead.

_He thinks he's endearing_, Draco observed. _He still has enough power to put on an image - and he's managed to thrust the whole thing onto us both being drunk. That didn't work the way it should've. _And then - a more dastardly plot occurred to him. Perhaps he'd best Potter by giving him a taste of his own medicine - sort of. Love, love, love, he preached. If it was love he wanted...

"And I'm starting to get carried away again just looking at you," Draco brought himself on top of Potter, placing his lips on top of the other pink ones. Slow, at first, then building up in intensity.

They spent a long time in bed that morning.

* * *

><p>The first few weeks of their tentative relationship were spent mostly on couches and in beds - once or twice on a dining table.<p>

The news was eventually broken to Hermione and Ron. Needless to say, they were both shocked.

"You're - homosexual," Hermione stated.

"No, Hermione. He's dating a bloke because he's the straightest wizard the world has seen," Ron replied sarcastically. "What I want to know is - why _Malfoy_, mate? You could've had _anyone_ - Malfoy?"

"Two months ago, I never would have believed you if you'd told me I'd fall in love with Draco," Harry smiled. "It's funny, the things - truths - alcohol reveals."

_Truths. How ironic. He thinks he's all-knowing. _Draco smirked, directing his face at Weasley - it wouldn't do to have them thinking he was mocking his new boyfriend.

"I - well - I'm happy for you," Hermione said simply. "That's all there is to it."

"Hermione, I don't think you've ever said anything more straighforward in your entire life." Ron looked at her, dead serious.

"I guess that's because she definitely means what she says," Draco interjected, speaking for the first time.

Harry nodded, proud that his new love could understand his friends so well. It was a sign - a sign that this love was _right_, that it was going to work. He was sure of it.

* * *

><p>They went shopping together. Harry insisted.<p>

Draco dragged him to the health foods store, convincing the skeptical boy-hero to buy organic vegetables. It was about the only time he cared to interact with muggles - when buying his organic produce.

Harry retaliated by taking him out to a fast food chain for dinner. Malfoy refused to eat anything - until Harry coaxed him into a small burger bite, fed with his own fingers.

_He thinks that I enjoy being fed by him. _Draco smirked inwardly to himself. Some people could delude themselves into anything. It was necessary that the ruse should work, though, so he simpered and smiled as Harry's fingers left his mouth. What made him suck on them - just a little bit - he didn't know.

The sheets were more rumpled than usual the next morning.

* * *

><p>They went to a Quidditch match. Draco asked.<p>

It was Bulgaria versus England - Ron and Lavender were there, too, together, and Hermione.

They had the best seats, courtesy of Malfoy.

_He thinks I'm doing it because of him_, Draco smirked. _I mean, it's only because I couldn't even think of watching a match from anywhere but the best seats possible. Obviously. _

At the end of the game, Krum landed in their box, fingers firmly clutched around the snitch he'd just caught. He waved his wand, and the gold ball became a gold ring, engraved with tiny wings. Bending down on one knee, he proposed.

* * *

><p>They went to Hermione's wedding. She asked.<p>

Krum looked dashing - Hermione was gorgeous - happiness radiated from their faces.

Draco saw how Harry's eyes rested a little too long on her ring - on the altar - and he knew what was going through the other man's head.

_He thinks we're made for each other - he thinks we'll end up married someday. _He smirked. He had to leave before that happened.

They danced, at the reception. Harry clutched on to Draco like a lifeline, unaware of the remarks people were making around them. He didn't care.

_He thinks this is romantic - he doesn't care what they think. _His smirk froze before it could place itself on his face. Not caring what others thought - maybe that wasn't such a bad place to be. His mockery of Harry trickled away for the rest of that day, and he retreated into himself, just a little.

* * *

><p>They went on a double-date with Lavender and Ron. Lavender asked.<p>

_Probably because she only thinks watching us snog is hot_, Draco decided. He told Harry this.

"Yeah, well. It kind of is, isn't it?" he winked.

Malfoy wasn't sure whether or not to agree.

He was impressed - for a Weasel, it was a nice restaurant. And he made slightly decent conversation.

Potter's face wasn't hard to miss. _He thinks that I'm adjusting to his friends, his life - for his sake. _He smirked, disguising it as a laugh at one of Weasley's jokes.

After a glass of wine, the Gryffindor harlot couldn't keep her hands off of Ron, and even Draco's senses were muddled after a glass - or two - or three, was it? He couldn't remember.

He just remembered stumbling out and apparating back to the Manor, collapsing on the bed together - both exhausted and aroused at once.

* * *

><p>Two years passed like this, and every day, Draco asked himself when he would finally leave. <em>Soon<em>, he told himself, each morning. _Soon. _After all, the relationship had to last long enough for it to hurt once he left, right? So he stayed.

_He thinks I'm sticking around because I love him_, he smirked. Potter was _so_ naive.

And then, one day, he felt him slipping. They'd had a slight row about something inconsequential a few days back. And now - he was been talking to Ginny at the office. The redhead was standing too close - too close. The plan wouldn't work if Potter left first! No, no, no. He had to do something. Fast.

A word to Blaise - a bottle of lube from Goyle - a request of Nott - it was set.

* * *

><p>Harry was working in his office when Blaise Zabini came in to drop off some paperwork.<p>

"Oh, hello, Blaise," he said cheerfully. The Italian worked at Malfoy's end of the building, he knew. "How's Draco? Tell him I'll stop by to pick up him up for lunch, will you?"

Blaise laughed - Harry didn't like that sound. It was mean - nasty. "I don't think _Draco_ is going to have time for lunch with you."

"Work keeping him busy?" A shadow of a doubt crept into Harry's mind.

"Not work, exactly, if you catch my drift. More like - colleagues. I'd keep an eye on him if I were you."

As soon as he left, Harry stood up, shaking. No - no - it was just a rumor, right? He'd go check - there couldn't be - no. Just no.

His trembling legs brought him to Malfoy's door before he knew it. There were moans coming from inside. _No - no - no. _

He knocked.

Scuffling from inside as Malfoy hurriedly shifted things around, trying to create the best sound effect possible.

Nott sat across from him, slowly loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

The opened lube was carefully placed in sight of anyone who walked in.

The door opened, and Harry saw the last thing he ever wanted to.

* * *

><p>Draco strode into the Manor, pleased with himself, to find Potter's belongings at the door. Where was Pott- <em>slap. <em>

Ah. There he was, waiting just beside the door.

"I suppose you're happy, now," he growled.

"Yes, I do suppose I am," he grinned.

The mocking expression caused Harry even more pain. "Did you ever - even - care in the first place? Was it all just a joke to you? The past two years?"

"Not a joke - I took our relationship _very _seriously, you see. It had to be perfect - you had to feel like you were on cloud nine, to use a muggle expression. Otherwise you wouldn't have fallen all this way back down."

"Revenge," he choked out. "That's what this is. Revenge for doing the right thing - being a good person - caring for those around me - protecting the innocent. Revenge for that?"

"A lot of people do that. Granger, Weasel. This is just for you, the last person on earth I would have ever actually loved. Revenge for making my life miserable," Dracy replied, looking away.

"I - I'm sorry for making you miserable," Harry gasped, leaving without giving Malfoy a chance to reply.

By the time he rushed to the door to say something - he was gone. As was every trace of his ever being there in the first place.

Revenge was sweet, wasn't it? Then again, Draco never had much of a sweet tooth.

* * *

><p>It had been a year since - since he left.<p>

The Manor was very, very empty. He had Blaise over, every now and again - sometimes for a drink, more often than not for a quick shag.

He wasn't like Potter, though. There was no messy bedhead, let alone hands running through it. There were no trips to fast food chains, let alone being fed from his hands. There were no Quidditch matches, or weddings, or double dates. There was no relationship - there was no love.

It wasn't just the Manor that was empty, Zabini realized. Draco's life had revolved around Potter - defeating him, pretending to love him, shagging him - for the past decade. And now that he'd dramatically shoved him out the door, he didn't know how to get on with things.

"Draco," he began heavily one night.

"Mm?" His head rested on Zabini's shoulder, which wasn't exactly the right shape or height to relax on.

"D'you think that maybe - you fooled yourself as much as Potter?"

"What do you mean?"

"You convinced him that you were in love with him - did you pull the wool over your own eyes, too?"

"Why on earth would I have ever been in love with that scarhead?"

"I dunno - why would he have been in love with you?"

"Because he thought that every time he touched me, I trembled. That every time he told me he loved me, I jumped for joy inside. That he was my everything."

"And he told you all this?"

"No, you could see it on his face."

"So you looked at his face and decided he thought these things."

"I guess, why?"

"Because that means that you - well, you must have been thinking that you _did _tremble, or jump for joy, or whatever. Otherwise - well, those are kind of random thoughts, mate. And anyway, wouldn't he have been thinking that every time _you_ touched _him_, _he _trembled? Or that every time _you_ told _him_ that you loved him, _he _jumped for joy?"

Draco said nothing. Blaise took it as an invitation to keep going.

"Don't get me wrong - I love fucking you. You're brilliant. But it doesn't feel like you're putting yourself into this - whatever it is that we are. It doesn't feel like you put yourself into _anything _anymore. The only thing you ever did care about enough to put your all into - was Potter. Whether it was defeating, or loving, or shagging, or whatever."

He still had no words.

"Just think about what I've said. If you're sure that you're over him, or that you never loved him, or whatever - then great! Maybe you're just getting old, and that's where your energy's going or something. I'm only watching out for your own good, y'know. Merlin knows it's rare enough that I do that."

Blaise waited for Draco to say _something - _but he waited in vain. He left within minutes, after finishing his bottle of firewhiskey.

_The sod's prolly too drunk to even remember what I said, let alone think about it,_ he decided, apparating home.

Draco was awake for a very, very long time that night, the moonlight shining through the window, dancing on his face and playing havoc with the expressions in his eyes.

* * *

><p>Harry opened the door to - no. <em>Slam. <em>It shut in his face. _Bastard. _

Draco pounded on the wood again. "Please. I need to talk-"

"Bullshit, you do," he grumbled, opening the door, just a crack.

"Look, I- can I come in?"

"No."

"Will you come out?"

"No."

He sighed, frustrated. "Fine, I'll just talk very loudly on your doorstep about how you were so upset over-"

"All right, all right, bloody bastard, come in."

They seated themselves in front of the fireplace. Draco stared at his hands, folded in his lap, suddenly not sure of where to start.

"Well?"

When he looked up, Harry saw - in his eyes. The vulnerability. The pain. The shame. The guilt. Perhaps that's why he spoke first, softer than before. "I take it that you're sorry?"

Draco nodded, mutely, devoid of the power of speech.

"Great. Now that you've come this far to apologize for being a complete and total _arse_, will you leave?"

Draco paused, then, with a slight tremor - shook his head.

"No? I suppose you won't talk, either?" Pause. "You don't want _me_ to apologize, do you?" He was slightly horrified.

Draco shook his head vigorously. Definitely not.

"Look, I don't know what you want."

"I didn't mean it," he said softly.

"Yeah, I know. You told me that."

"No - the - lies."

"People generally don't mean lies. They mean truth. Unless their name is Draco Malfoy, of course." His patience was getting tried.

"You don't understand - I - I lied to myself, more than to you."

"Did you really?" The sarcasm was weak - he couldn't be sarcastic, not in front of those steel eyes melting into mercury before him.

"I think I'm obsessed with you, you know."

"Really? I figured that out - why else would you fake love to a bloke for _two damn years _just to ditch him and watch him fall? Got to be pretty committed, you know."

"Yeah," Draco cleared his throat. "Why else would I have woken up each morning, told myself that - today was the day, I would leave - and then look at your face, and convince myself that waiting just one more day wouldn't hurt?"

Harry had nothing to say to that.

Emboldened by the silence, he continued. "Or why else would I try and like your friends - be nice, polite?"

"To fool me into thinking you loved me."

Draco laughed bitterly. "We're fools, you know. We both believed me, to a fault. I told you I loved you - you believed me. I told myself I didn't love you - and I believed that, too."

"You said you loved me; I believed you. It was a lie. That makes me the fool, not you," Harry said dully.

"I told myself I didn't care about you; I believed it. It was a lie. That makes me the fool, silly."

"You're saying you _do_ care, after all?" He was trying so hard to deny the hope in his voice. _Not after what he did to you last time. _

"I - I love you, as odd as that sounds," Draco admitted. "And I know you won't believe me," he said, forestalling Harry's next statement.

"You're right - I don't. Why should I?"

An owl tapped at Harry's window. "Excuse me a moment," he said, running up to open the latch. The bird dropped the parchment into his hand, swooping away without waiting for a reply.

_Dear Potter,_

_Have you seen Malfoy? He was supposed to meet me for lunch today. He's been - well, frankly, he's been really depressed for the past several months, and he promised me that he'd come meet us so that we could try and get his spirits up. I've been asking everyone I know if they know where is - he's not at the Manor, or at Zabini's, or Goyle's - they saw him at work on Friday, and no one's seen him since. _

_He hasn't left the Manor for a year - and I'm honestly scared that he may have done something - dangerous. To himself - or to you, even. I don't know. Do let me know if he's with you; we're all rather concerned for his safety (and that's coming from a former Slytherin to a Gryffindor - hope you can see how serious we're taking this)._

_Thanks_

_-Nott_

Harry frowned. Draco was so depressed his friends thought him capable of committing suicide? That was odd.

The blond watched him expectantly, not happy at the conversation being interrupted.

"Nott - er-"

"Bloody _hell_ - I was supposed to meet him or something, wasn't I? He didn't tell you to come or something, did he?"

"No - they have no idea where you are, and they're scared that - you're dead or something. I don't know." He thrust the letter at Draco awkwardly.

His eyes lingered on the parchment - or pretended to, anyway. Potter's expression gave him dead away. The fidgeting, too.

Harry hadn't wanted to believe Draco this time around - but maybe, just maybe - he was telling the truth. After all-

His face was being cupped by Draco's hands - their lips met - their arms held each other close. The fire burning in the grate wasn't the only source of heat in the room.

He was once more overwhelmed at how _right _this felt - and his guard couldn't hold up for long.

And as Draco rested his head on the raven-haired wizard's shoulder - well, it was shaped just perfectly, really.

"I love you, Harry," he murmured softly.

"Call me naive," the other man replied, just as quietly. "But I think - this time - I believe you."


	6. Drabble 6: Memories

**Title: **_Memories_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_The Reason - Hoobastank  
><em>**Summary: **_Draco's different, true - but why?_

* * *

><p>Harry picked up the Daily Prophet as he sipped his coffee in the morning. He sat alone in Grimmauld Place, dressed for work, and nearly ready to leave. The headline caught his eye - <em>Malfoy Heir to Donate Inheritance to Granger Foundation. <em>

Malfoy was donating all his money to Hermione's fund for war orphans? What? He'd been far more polite after the battle, and nicer in general - but giving away that much money? To Hermione Granger, no less? That didn't compute. It simply didn't fit. He'd have a talk with the man in the office today - he worked down the hall, after all.

* * *

><p>"Malfoy - could I see you for a minute?" He beckoned the blond into his office.<p>

"Of course," he replied coolly, stepping in.

Seated at his desk, Harry brought out the morning's paper. "What's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a Slytherin, Malfoy. You don't just - _give_ away your money like that. There's some dastardly plot behind all this."

"Do you not pay any attention at _all_?"

"What?"

"All I've been saying since the war is that I'm not the old Malfoy anymore."

"All talk - you've always been all talk, Malfoy."

"You doubt my sincerity."

"Always."

Malfoy turned heel and left the room without another word.

Harry shrugged, bewildered. He'd figure it out, eventually. Right?

* * *

><p>When he returned from his lunch break, it was to find a flask full of memories sitting on his desk.<p>

An explanation? Perhaps. It would, however, have to wait until he got home.

He'd found himself a Pensieve after the war's aftermath had settled down. Dumbledore's memories of Voldemort, Snape's memories of Lily - he treasured them, keeping them in a safe place. Sometimes, when he found himself in an oddly lonely mood, he'd pull one of them out - it reminded him of the sacrifice all of them had made to defeat Voldemort.

Through the course of the afternoon, he discovered that it was really difficult to focus on his report - his eyes kept straying to the flask of memories, and he wanted nothing more than to apparate home and tear it open, delving into the hopefully not-tampered workings of Draco Malfoy's mind.

* * *

><p>He did, however, get through the day, though it did seem to drag. And after hurriedly dusting off the fireplace dust from his cloak, the moment finally came - "Accio Pensieve!" - it floated through the air into his hands, and he set on the table.<p>

Uncapping the flask, he paused for a moment - why was he so urgent? It was only Malfoy, right? Dismissing these thoughts, he dove into the swirling mass of reminiscence that were the other man's memories.

* * *

><p><em>Draco, crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. <em>

_"What's wrong, Draco? Just tell me, just tell Myrtle." The gossipy gleam in her eyes is so evident, it's a wonder the boy even shows any sign of feeling in front of her. _

_"I can't do this. I mean - I see the way he's Dumbledore's favorite. I see the way they're together all the time. And if I kill him - Harry will be devastated. I have nightmares of him, craving revenge, wanting to kill me. He's going to hate me - I can't do this."_

Swirl. Another memory.

_Draco, alone in his bedroom. _

_"Come on, come on," he fiddles with the dial, mumbling something that sounds like "Mad-eye."_

_Fred's voice booms from the speakers before Draco hurriedly lowers it with his wand. He bends close to the radio, listening intently. After several minutes, he raises his head, sighing with relief. "No sign of him, yet, then." His expression changes as something occurrs to him. "What if that means he's dead - and we just don't know?" He stands up, starting to pace, when - _

A violent twist. Another memory.

_"Is this him, Draco?"_

_No, no, no, he wouldn't give Harry away. He couldn't. He prays that Harry won't be able to see the torture in his eyes. The last thing he needs is for the other boy to know exactly how much he cares - too much, really._

_"I - I can't be sure."_

An eruption of color. Another memory.

_Draco, hiding behind a pillar in the Great Hall._

_He watches as Harry paces the floor, looking at each of the bodies in turn, and shaking his head, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. _

_He wants nothing more than to comfort him - to run out and embrace him - tell him it would all be okay - but it's partly his own fault that Harry is even this distressed. He had done this. He, Draco Malfoy, had caused Harry Potter this much pain. What was he going to do?_

A sudden pull. Another memory.

_Draco, in the living room of Malfoy Manor, with Granger._

_"Are you sure about this, Ma-Draco?" she's gentle._

_"Yes, yes, I'm sure." He is distracted, and it's obvious._

_"Sign here, then - Malfoy Manor will be put to good use, I assure you."_

_"What - er - yes, I'm sure. Just - don't change my parent's bedroom. The wallpaper was - their favorite."_

_"We'll do our best to keep everything just as it is, excepting maybe the furniture," she smiles kindly. _

_"That's that, then?" He stands up._

_"Yes, I suppose - why are you doing this, Draco?" The question comes out despite her intentions._

_"Hm?" He turns around, surprised._

_"Donations - speeches - support - I mean, you've changed so much. There's got to be a reason."_

_His brow creased. "Lot of different ones, really." The lie is obvious._

Plunge. Another memory.

_Draco, at his desk, writing._

Today is my last day in this house, _he wrote. _I signed the documents with Hermione this afternoon. _He pauses. _She asked why I was doing all this. I couldn't tell her - I can't tell anyone. I can only hope that he notices, that he believes me, that he sees me as a different person. _More hesitation. _It's all for him - I'm trying so hard to be the person he would love, the kind of person he'd want to share his life with. I'm so desperate for his approval. I need it - the guilt weighs down on my shoulders, a heavy burden that I'll be forced to bear the rest of my life. I need him to tell me it's okay, to hold me, to let me help him ease the pain that I caused. I wish he'd let me come near him - physically and emotionally. _He sets his pen down._

_"Am I in love with him?" he wonders aloud. _

Gasping, Harry pulled himself out of the dish, collapsing onto the nearest chair, hit with a deluge.

_He _was the reason? For everything - Draco loved him?

_Did I just call him Draco? _Brushing that aside, he went back to thinking over what he'd seen.

He ought to be revolted, he decided. _That's decidedly stalkerish_, he realized.

_But - _his heart went out to Draco. He found no room in himself for disgust, or dislike - he wanted nothing more than - _to tell him it's okay, hold him, tell him it wasn't his fault; it was Voldemort's doing, all of it. _

After several minutes - _the only way to truly defeat Voldemort is by uniting the two sides with love, _he realized.

* * *

><p>Hermione knocked on Harry's office door - no response. There were voices inside - was that Draco Malfoy? Interesting. Casually leaning against the wall beside his door, she lowered an extendable ear to the floor.<p>

"...That's that, then? You don't need anything else from me?" Draco's voice was slightly detached, distant.

"We're done discussing the report, yes. But wait - Draco."

Draco? Harry always called him Malfoy. Odd.

"What is it?"

"The flask -"

"Oh. That."

Flask? What flask?

"I - er - saw it. Or rather, the memories in it."

"I gathered."

"Look - it's not - it's not your fault. Whatever happened."

"I caused you a great deal of pain that wasn't necessary."

"No, that was Voldemort - honestly, Draco, the only pain you ever really caused me was by being an annoying prat in school."

"Oh, gee, thanks." A breath of a laugh escaped his lips - and he sounded relieved.

Relieved? Hermione was thoroughly confused.

"You're quite welcome."

She heard motion - someone was walking around - and then - she gasped.

It lasted quite a while, the silence - or rather, absence of words. They weren't exactly silent.

Then, finally -

"That felt good," Harry laughed.

Again, the lack of distinguishable words - maybe she'd come to meet with him later. The two men seemed slightly busy at the moment.

"What is it," she asked herself, "with Harry Potter and _memories?_"


	7. Drabble 7: Watch

**Title: **_Watch_**  
>Inspiration: <strong>_Prodigal - OneRepublic  
><em>**Summary: **_Harry and Draco try to run away from their pasts - and end up coming full circle._

* * *

><p>Harry watched.<p>

Draco tried to keep from running to his parents. Eventually, he gave up, and leapt the last few metres. He covered distance quickly with those long, lithe legs of his.

Harry watched.

Narcissa and Lucius embraced their son, welcomed him back into their world - only their world really no longer existed. They'd have to forge a new way, a new path.

Harry watched.

Draco had never really considered their family to be close. There had always been an element missing - love. But things would change, now. He was sure of it. They'd all nearly lost everything - and returned. Nothing would be taken for granted, not anymore. He held his parents close, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Harry watched.

"Don't leave me," Draco whispered. His mother only held him tighter, sobbing into his chest, relieved that everything was almost over.

Harry looked away. There were still Death Eaters on the loose in the castle, even if he had just killed their leader. There was work to be done, not family reunions to spy on. He sighed.

* * *

><p>Draco watched.<p>

Harry held Mrs. Weasley as she wept over Fred's body. Her entire frame shook with the force of her sorrow.

Draco watched.

Harry was lifted by Ron, who placed a firm hand on his shoulder, letting him know that there was always support and love, wherever and whenever he needed it.

Draco watched.

Hermione drew near as well. The Golden Trio stood together, eyes traveling along the path of dead bodies.

Draco watched.

Harry began to tear up - he had known all of these people, cared for most of them. This wasn't right.

Draco looked away. He'd been separated from his parents - he ought to go find them. He sighed.

* * *

><p>Harry watched.<p>

Draco stood over his mother's body, too shocked for tears. They had written "TRAITOR" into her skin. He was disgusted. He couldn't watch.

Draco watched.

Harry saw them cover Fred's corpse with a blanket and carry it away to be buried. He couldn't watch.

Their eyes met.

One instant.

Harry looked away.

Draco turned and ran. Out, out, out. Outside the Great Hall, outside the castle, anywhere Harry was not. He couldn't handle it.

"Go," Harry said softly, looking back over his shoulder. "Run away. It's always what you've done best. Don't wait for me - did I think that you would?"

And Harry ran, too - in the opposite direction.

* * *

><p>The raven-haired wizard discreetly picked up a Daily Prophet, making sure to hide his face - and his scar.<p>

_The Boy Who Lived - Where Is He?_

He's gone missing, they said. No one knows where he is.

Harry laughed bitterly. _Good. Let them search._ He knew what they wanted - interviews, photographs, celebrity status - he wasn't that kind of hero. Didn't they understand?

He opened the paper. Inside - _Malfoy on Trial_. So Lucius was being tried, was he? And a little sentence at the end - _"The accused has a son, who was not available for comment. If any trace of Draconis Lucian Malfoy is known, please contact the Daily Prophet, or the Ministry of Magic."_

They didn't know where Draco was, either? Strange.

* * *

><p>The blond rose from his bed in the little muggle flat he was living in. An owl tapped at his window - the paper.<p>

He sent the bird off with more change than was necessary, but he didn't really mind. He was oddly detached from all his wealth, now. It wasn't rightfully his, he felt. And yet he threw it around like he had no other cares in the world.

Headline? _Potter's Past - the True Story of the Golden Boy_.

Rita Skeeter at work, again. She'd come out with a new book.

Strange, he reflected. Wouldn't Potter have come out and denied the outrageous claims she'd be sure to make?

He scanned the article.

A little sentence at the end - _"Mr. Potter was not available for comment. If any trace of Harry James Potter is known, please contact the Ministry of Magic."_

They still didn't know where he was? That was odd.

* * *

><p>He slipped out of Flourish and Blotts, the book safe in his hand.<p>

Once in his flat, he opened it and scanned the table of contents.

There was an entire chapter on him - _Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter: Rivalry or Romance?_

He wondered if Harry had seen this - this - he threw it at the wall in disgust. How could she trivialize everything like that? Take years of pain - suffering - struggle - repression - and compress it into a single, gossipy chapter without one shred of real evidence.

No one knew the real evidence - except for him. He'd seen enough in that one glance in the castle to know - everything.

"Rita Skeeter," he declared aloud to his mirror, "is a foul bitch."

The glass agreed sleepily.

* * *

><p><em>Rivalry or Romance?<em>

She really was too witty, Harry decided. And insightful, perhaps? Not that he'd ever thought he'd say that with regards to Rita Skeeter.

But as he read on - no, he realized. Not insightful, merely a gossip with nothing better to do.

Her words, meant to convince readers that Draco and Harry cared for each other, did exactly the opposite. Her lack of evidence - absence of reason - complete, utter nonsense. There was no way Draco had ever cared, no. He had simply imagined something in those steel eyes that day in the castle.

For his part - well, she was making things up because she simply had no idea. What he had done, how he'd cared. No one had any idea - except maybe Draco. Perhaps he'd let on a little more than necessary in his eyes. He cringed - was that why Draco had run? Out of disgust - that Harry Potter, his arch-nemesis, actually _cared _for him?

He wondered if Draco had seen this book - read it, maybe. Who knew?

Looking back at the book, he felt bile coming up in his mouth.

"Rita Skeeter," he muttered, "makes me want to vomit."

His mirror hummed. "Bathroom's that way, dear."

* * *

><p>Advertisements were plastered in every window - <em>Potter's Past, by Rita Skeeter.<em>

Draco was revolted by the bright orange fliers, but his eyes were drawn to them despite the neon.

A certain raven-haired wizard with vividly green eyes smiled out at him from the cover, brushing his hair out of his eyes, revealing his lightning scar.

Subconsciously, he slipped his hand inside his cloak, grabbing for his book. He kept it with him at all times - and hadn't been able to justify that to himself. Now he knew.

"I can't blasted get him out of my head - out of my life," Draco fumed quietly.

* * *

><p>The Ministry fliers were posted in the windows, now. Those who were missing - presumed dead, perhaps, but no bodies were found.<p>

Draco's name was top of the list.

Slowly, the number dwindled until his was practically the only one left.

His blond hair, pointed face, mercury eyes sneered out from every poster. He was wanted, to be tried by the Ministry for crimes against the Order of the Phoenix.

Anger boiled in Harry. They didn't know the half of it. Trying Draco? They might as well - try him, Harry, for Merlin's sake. It wasn't like Draco had done what he had because he _wanted _to - by the time he'd figured it out, it was too late to back out. Even Harry knew that - Harry, who had known so precious little about Draco.

Why was everything always about Draco? he wondered.

* * *

><p>He ran his thumb over the face on the cover, brushing off the snow. He still couldn't leave his past behind him, however much he tried.<p>

Not looking up as he walked forward - _smack_!

* * *

><p>He dusted off the snow from his stolen poster. It smirked up at him, and it hit him how obsessed he really was.<p>

He couldn't be bothered to look where he was going - _smack_!

* * *

><p>They stood back up.<p>

Their eyes met.

One instant.

Draco looked away. He turned to run.

Harry willed himself to let the other man go, detach himself. He could do this - do what? Cut out his heart? Hadn't he fought Voldemort for this - love? No, he couldn't let it run away like that.

"Draco, wait."

How could he admit it - Draco, who held him in such contempt? His expression was odd. He'd been looking at something, Harry realized. Something that meant a lot to him. What was it?

Draco quickly tucked the book inside his robes as he faced the other man.

Harry stared at his feet. What if he was - married? In love? Maybe he had eloped; that would explain the disappearance, right? Still - something about that book he had shoved in his cloak... He shuffled his feet, coughing slightly in the cold.

Draco watched.

Harry steeled himself for the heartbreak sure to follow. "I - I can't do this anymore, Draco." When he looked up, his green eyes were brimming with tears.

Draco watched.

"We're both on the run - from the Ministry, from the public, from our past." He brushed the water from his eyes, trying to dry them.

Draco watched.

"And - I'm sick of hiding. Really, I am." One lone tear, rolling down his cheek.

Draco watched.

"I can't go it alone - I give up." More tears, cascading now.

Draco watched.

_This is it. _"I think - I'm in love with you." He couldn't look him in the eyes anymore. Harry looked away.

Draco tried to watch. Eventually, he gave up, his arms circling Harry's body, holding him tightly.

Harry sighed into the other man's chest, closing his eyes. Maybe he didn't need to see anymore.


End file.
